


The Rumors

by anoncanon



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 19:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3393413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoncanon/pseuds/anoncanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this prompt on the Kink-meme (see notes) :<br/>"I was super sad that I couldn't cajole Giselle into repeating whatever salacious rumors were spreading about Dorian and me."</p>
<p>It turned into... this. Unresolved sexual tension? Resolved sexual tension? Fluff? Bathtubs? *shrug*</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rumors

It wasn’t a planned encounter but it would do just as well, Dorian told himself as he pushed the Inquisitor against the wall in a dark corner of the cellar. He kissed him just below the ear, the skin warm and soft, then slowly down until his lips met the collar of his shirt. He started working on the first fastening with nimble fingers, removing his lips from the other man’s neck to look at his face.

“I know you came to steal a bottle of a proper vintage,” the Inquisitor said with a smirk, his voice low. “Or whatever you call fancy wine…”

“Yes and since you caught me, I’m trying to seduce you into giving it to me,” Dorian replied, as his fingers moved to the second fastener. He felt hands slide around his waist, to settle just above his backside.

The Inquisitor chuckled. “By all means, please continue--”

He was interrupted by a surprised squeal coming from the doorway.

“I am so sorry, my Lord Inquisitor!” the servant exclaimed, bowing her head low. “The Steward sent me here to fetch a bottle for your noble guests, I didn’t mean to…” She stopped, her embarrassment getting the better of her explanation. “I- I’ll come back later!” she blurted out and fled out of the cellar, up the stairs.

Seconds later, a soldier passed by, pretending he hadn’t noticed them.

“There are people everywhere in this bloody fortress,” the Inquisitor said, after a moment of silence. He still had a startled expression on his face.

Dorian turned to look at him, “If we are to be caught, can it happen somewhere preferably not dank?”

“Good point,” the other man replied. He motioned toward the stairs leading up to the main hall.

“You know,” Dorian said as he climbed the stairs just behind the Inquisitor, “I keep wondering about the rumors Mother Giselle mentioned when she last ambushed me.”

“I’ve thought about it too. I can’t see what could be that bad,” the Inquisitor replied as he reached the door at the top of the stairs.

They emerged into the hall and the Inquisitor was almost immediately swamped in nobles and sycophants. He barely had the time to look at Dorian and mouth a silent “ _I’m sorry_ ”. 

Dorian nodded to him, answering with a silent “ _Later_ ” and a smile. He walked out the hall, leaving the Inquisitor to deal with his assailants.  
\---

It was almost night when Dorian returned to the main hall, now mostly empty and silent, and made his way to the door on the left, at the far end of the vast room. He slipped through, unnoticed as far as his senses could tell him. He knew it was a bit late and exactly the sort of action that would lead to more rumors, but what he had spent the afternoon uncovering was too good to keep to himself. And the Inquisitor was exactly the kind of company he felt like spending the evening with.

He reached the door to the Inquisitor’s quarters and knocked. Nothing. He knocked again, frowning. There was no way the Inquisitor would already be asleep. Or maybe he was. Maybe he’d come to the door all disheveled and half-dressed. Then Dorian would make some sort of excuse and leave, but only after a bit of ogling. Then again, maybe the Inquisitor was working late and not even in his quarters. 

The Tevinter waited a bit longer, before trying the handle. The door was unlocked. He carefully clicked it open and pushed slowly.

“Inquisitor?” he asked to the void of the room. 

“ _Maker’s_ \-- ” There was a sloshing sound. “Who is it? _What_ do you want?” 

Dorian hesitated. “I can come back later if now is an inopportune time,” he finally said, still standing in the doorway with the door half-opened. 

“Oh! Dorian. You can come in. Unless you feel like you can’t bear to see me in a bathtub. Then you can indeed come back later,” the Inquisitor replied. 

That was an invitation Dorian couldn’t refuse. He walked in, closing the door behind him. As an afterthought, he also locked it; they had been interrupted often enough that it didn’t feel like a foolish notion. The scene in the room revealed itself to his eyes as he climbed up the stairs. At the other side of the room, on the same wall as the bed, someone had moved the furniture to make room for a bathtub. There were upturned boxes around it; most had candles on them, one had toiletries and the last one had a glass of wine and a plate with a half-eaten sandwich on it.

It was the sight Dorian expected, but he still stopped in his tracks at the top of the stairs. The Inquisitor was sitting in the tub, wet hair falling over his face and shoulders, skin glistening in the light of the candles. He was leaning forward, arms resting on the sides of the tub. His eyes were trained on Dorian.

“Please, sit,” the Inquisitor said. He gestured broadly, sending droplets flying, “Anywhere.”

Dorian considered his options. The couch was way too far from the bath and had a terrible view of its occupant. He spotted the desk chair and made his way toward it.

“I finally managed to convince them to let me have a bathtub in here,” the Inquisitor said. 

Dorian glanced at him. He could see half of the man’s upper body and his knees, the rest hidden by the bathtub’s rim. He wasn’t paying attention to his steps and almost crashed into the desk, turning at the very last moment to go around it and grab the chair. He brought the chair to the distance he figured was exactly at the junction of intimate and perfectly decent, meaning that it was debatable whether he was too close or too far. The Inquisitor didn’t seem to mind, he simply looked at Dorian with a slightly amused expression before taking a bite of his sandwich. 

“Perks of being the Lord Inquisitor,” Dorian said as he sat down on the chair, crossing his legs in one elegant move. 

“Either that,” the other man said before swallowing his mouthful, “or they realized it was easier to fill a bath during the day and let me use it when I eventually get here at night, rather than waking up staff at ungodly hours because the Inquisitor needs to bathe. I never thought training for Knight-Enchanter would leave me this… this dirty.”

Dorian hadn’t noticed the dirt as much as the changes to the Inquisitor’s body: the added bulk and definition. When he had met the man in Redcliffe, acting as the Herald of Andraste and all the running around that came with it had already made him a lean person. It simply kept on improving. 

“What brings you to my quarters, Lord Pavus?” the Inquisitor asked, effectively jolting Dorian out of staring at the muscles on the man’s arm.

Dorian covered by putting on his best smile. “I had a very prolific afternoon of gossip gathering and hearsay hunting. I thought you might be interested in the results,” he replied

“You really went around and asked..?” the other man inquired, slightly incredulously.

“In a way,” Dorian said. He had gone to Sera and Bull, figuring that the former would know about what the _little people_ whispered in the dark and that the latter, with his deceptive Ben Hassrath training, might know more than he let on. He had been right on both accounts. 

“What did you find?” the Inquisitor asked.

Dorian leaned forward, only too happy to have all of the Inquisitor’s attention. “Some are rather unimaginative tidbits, like me being a blood mage, or a Venatori spy, or a follower of the _Black_ Divine.” He paused, looking around with a frown. Before he could open his mouth to complain about his host’s lack of civility -on account of not having offered a glass of wine to his guest-, the Inquisitor leaned over the side of the bathtub to take his glass and extended it toward the Tevinter. 

If Dorian stretched his arm, he could almost touch the glass. He stood up slightly to reach it, brushing his fingers along the Inquisitor’s. 

He sat back down. “It gets a bit better when they combine the simple rumors…” he paused to take a sip of the wine and hummed appreciatively. _This_ was a good vintage. 

“Venatori blood mage-spy for the Black Chantry?” the Inquisitor suggested with a smirk.

Dorian chuckled, “Yes.” He sampled the wine again. “Some people think I’m influencing your decisions as our leader to fit into some obscure evil magister plot. That’s still boring, though. And predictable.” He leaned back and looked at the man in the bathtub with half-lidded eyes, “It gets a lot better when they add the sex into it.”

“Of course it does,” the Inquisitor replied, shifting around in the water so he sat facing Dorian, with his arms crossed and resting on the side of the tub.

Dorian stared at him for a moment, eyebrow raised. “You’re _really_ into this, aren’t you?”

“What do you expect: I grew up in a Circle Tower. Not allowed outside. Of course gossip was a big thing, it was the _only_ thing. Go on,” the other man replied with a lopsided grin.

There was a moment of pause, in which Dorian considered all he was about to say. It might have been easier if the man in front of him wasn’t naked and wet, the only thing between them being this unsaid agreement that they hadn’t consented to anything yet. 

“There are some rather straightforward whispers,” Dorian’s eyes lowered to the glass in his hands, trying to limit the blush spreading on his skin by looking at something else than the Inquisitor, “like the one saying that you are ridiculously well-endowed. Or that I have a snake tattooed on a rather sensitive part of my anatomy…” He closed his eyes and emptied the glass in one smooth motion.

“Do you?” the Inquisitor asked in a low voice.

Dorian choked on his mouthful but managed to turn it into a chuckle. “Do _you_?” he asked back.

“Do I what?” the other man replied, to which Dorian only raised an eyebrow. “Oh,” he said as his wits caught on, “ _Maaaybe_.”

The Inquisitor proceeded to give Dorian a smile that was so smug, so uncharacteristically sly that the Tevinter found himself speechless. Briefly. He cleared his throat, “They also say that I used a Maleficarum’s blood ritual to bind you to me and make you my sex slave. Which in itself is laughable, for many reasons.” 

The Inquisitor nodded, “You wouldn’t even need a ritual to achieve that. And, actually, no necessity to make me a slave eith--”

Dorian cut in with a laugh. “I know! Why trouble myself with so much effort when I’m clearly irresistible!” He repressed a wince; that was a terrible retort. Problem was, the situation was becoming too familiar to him. And, at the same time, too unfamiliar. The man in the bathtub was coming on strongly and it was fine, truly. They had been building to it steadily over the last few weeks. Dorian knew he was rising to it, both literally and figuratively. He also suspected that the other man’s advances were honest and backed with actual feelings other than lust. And that was… unexpected. 

He looked up, locking eyes with the Inquisitor. He wanted to go on, but wasn’t quite sure how to continue. The other man’s expression had lost some of its mirth but he was still smiling.

“Is that a thing up north? Sex slaves, I mean, because I know that slavery is a common practice in the Imperium,” the Inquisitor asked.

“Yes, of course,” Dorian replied. He was thankful for the change in the tone, even if he knew it was probably momentary. Especially with this subject of conversation. “I don’t think my parents owned any, though.”

The Inquisitor frowned and before he could talk, Dorian spoke again. “I never had any slaves to my personal name and very few intimate dealings with them in general. We should speak of something else, though. Discussions about slaves with Southerners has proven to be a terrible idea in every case. There’s just no way it doesn’t end awkwardly, or worse. We can pick this subject again when I’ve managed to radically flip the Imperium on its head.”

“Alright,” the Inquisitor shrugged, “I’m still curious, though... _Hypothetically_ , if you had me at your disposal, what would you have me do?” 

Dorian swallowed, “Do you really want to know?” 

“I asked, didn’t I ?” The sly smile was back and Dorian suspected the man had as hard a time keeping it in check as he was having trying to casually hide the unmistakable bulge in his pants. He leaned forward on the chair to put the empty glass on the floor, using the motion to reposition himself.

“Many things,” Dorian said, “None of them entirely proper. Ah, except the one where you massage my feet… The thing is,” the words came tumbling out of his mouth before Dorian could think any better, “I’d prefer a willing partner, who might pretend to be unwilling at times, of course… But who essentially wanted to be with me as much as I might want to be with them.”

Upon realization of what he had just said and all that it implied, Dorian froze. He no longer had any wine or empty glass to create diversions and he ended up looking straight at the Inquisitor. The man was tense, hands clenched, knuckles turning white. They had stopped trying to be subtle a long time ago yet the force of the desire he read in the other man’s eyes still took him by surprise. It went straight to his low abdomen.

“Who said you can’t have both,” the Inquisitor replied, staring intently at Dorian.

“I--” Dorian cleared his throat. It was all he could manage. 

Thankfully, the Inquisitor wasn’t as lost for words. “Got any more scandalous hearsay to share?” he asked, putting an end to the awkward silence that had been edging in.

“Yes.” Try as he might, Dorian couldn’t bring to mind what the other rumors were. “I can’t seem to think of it now,” he finally said, frowning. The whole scene felt like it was stuck. He was too distracted to keep on talking about trivial things, his thoughts overrun by desire and need, yet he didn’t know how to move things forward. Or where to take them.

“Would you mind turning around while I get out of this bath?” the Inquisitor said, picking up his towel from the floor. 

“What if I do mind,” Dorian replied impulsively. “You’re not shy, are you?”

The man in the tub raised an eyebrow. The Tevinter expected a bit of a fight, a sparring of words. Flirting was a game, after all. Anything to give him time to figure out a way to move around without revealing himself completely.

He was taken by surprise when the Inquisitor simply stood up, not even attempting to cover himself, water dripping down his naked form. He dried himself, unbothered. There was no way to tell if the slight color on his face was a result of the hot water or his current undressed state. Dorian followed the rivulets along the man’s body, eyes going wide when they fell on a very stiff cock. 

“Well,” he tried, voice low, “Apparently there’s a basis of truth to some of the rumors.”

To that, the Inquisitor snorted. He stepped out of the tub and wrapped the towel around his waist, not exactly hiding anything. In a few steps, he closed the distance between them and leaned in to kiss Dorian, but stopped just short of his lips. 

“Oh, would you just kiss m--” Dorian started but never finished, as the other man kissed him full on and hungry. 

“Would you like to stay the night?” the Inquisitor asked when they broke apart to breathe.

“And give them more reasons to gossip?” Dorian replied. He had waited for that question with both eagerness and dread. Seeing the Inquisitor naked and aroused had done absolutely nothing to quell his desires. The opposite, obviously. Yet he wasn’t sure he was ready to face… the disappointment, he realized. The inevitable moment when he’d be thrown back out, used. Maybe he should leave now, he thought. Before it’s too late. To postpone the rejection and maybe grasp a bit more of the good part; the desire, the tension.

“I would stay,” he finally said, “but we are riding out for the Hinterlands tomorrow and I’ve yet to pack…” Not good enough. Not true either. “Also,” he added quickly, “if we are to spend the day on horseback, I’d rather not spend the night playing with that.” He gestured vaguely toward the Inquisitor’s groin.

“There is more than one way to spend the night in good company. I’d have thought you’d be more… imaginative,” the man replied. He shifted to uncross Dorian’s legs and dropped to his knees between them. He raised his hands and placed them on Dorian’s thighs, their warmth permeating through the fabric. 

There wasn’t much he could retort to that, Dorian thought. It was getting impossible to think of anything but the man in front of him; his hands stroking slowly up to where he desperately wanted to feel his touch; his naked, warm body, so close… He pulled him in for another ragged kiss. The Inquisitor’s hands reached the ties of Dorian’s pants and started undoing them.

Dorian realized that he didn’t want it to stop. He couldn’t think of a single reason to walk away now. It didn’t feel like his leg would let him, anyway. The Inquisitor kissed down Dorian’s neck as he slid a hand in the now unfastened pants to further free him from the confines of the garment.

The first touch of the Inquisitor’s lips on his cock emptied Dorian’s mind completely. He only recovered his senses later, utterly spent, with his hands still knotted in the other man’s hair. He released the cramped fingers, arms falling limply to his sides. Both men were flushed and panting.

“Are you alright?” the Inquisitor asked, his voice hoarse.

Dorian looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes. He nodded faintly, a sated smile on his lips.

“No snake,” the other man added with a lopsided grin.

Dorian chuckled, then managed to straighten up a bit. “That was- I’ll put it this way, you undoubtedly wanted to do that,” he whispered. 

“Mh”, the Inquisitor replied, “Very much.”

“Then you must allow me to return the favor,” Dorian whispered back.

The Inquisitor turned a shade redder. “I- That will not be possible… At least, not _right_ away.”

Dorian blinked, “Are you- Did you…”

“I did. When _you_ did,” the other man looked away. “I was- You might’ve interrupted something when you knocked on the door earlier…” 

There was an awkward silence, during which the Inquisitor only managed to look more uncomfortable.

“ _This_ is what embarasses you?” Dorian laughed quietly. “Were you thinking of me, at least?”

The Inquisitor, guilty look on his face, simply cleared his throat. “I was serious, though. If you want to sleep here tonight, you can.”

The statement dissipated the hazy bliss of afterglow. Dorian covered his hesitation by righting his underclothes and pants. “Tsk tsk, Inquisitor. I still need to prepare for tomorrow… And sleep. No one will thank you if I travel when deprived of rest.”

For a moment, he thought the Inquisitor would try again to persuade him to stay. Part of him hoped he would. He saw the man’s features shift, reflecting disappointment for a second before settling on a more neutral expression. 

“I am looking forward to sharing your tent on this expedition, however,” Dorian added softly. 

“You only do that to benefit from my body heat,” the Inquisitor replied with a smirk.

“Maybe. If it was only for that though, I’d ask to share The Iron Bull’s tent,” Dorian retorted.

“Fierce competition,” the other man commented.

“You have a head start,” Dorian replied.

“Indeed,” the Inquisitor said as he got up to his feet. “Out with you, then.”

“Are you... throwing me out?” Dorian asked, surprised.

“I am. We both need to prepare for tomorrow, don’t we?” He extended a hand to help Dorian get up.

It wasn’t explicit if the Inquisitor was cross or just going along with Dorian’s excuse. He had seen the man angry before and it usually meant slicing something in half or burning it to a crisp. This was different. His tone was gentle enough even if the words were curt. He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“I- You’re right,” Dorian said as he grabbed the proffered hand and got up. He walked to the stairs, the Inquisitor in tow. He stopped when he got to the door, then turned around to face the other man.

“Don’t think too hard about me tonight, Inquisitor,” he said shamelessly.

The other man snorted. “I hope you freeze, all alone in your small bed,” he retorted with a grin before reaching for the handle, unlocking then opening the door.

They stood there for a moment, neither of them moving. The Inquisitor’s expression had softened, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Dorian reached up until the tip of his fingers brushed the other man’s jaw. It dawned on him that he didn’t want to leave. He had known he was fighting his desire to stay with what he thought was reason and experience, but now that he was at the decisive moment, every fiber of his being compelled him to remain here.

With his other hand, he pushed the door shut. 

“I… I want to stay, if you’ll still have me, but-” he started, not quite sure how to voice his thoughts. He brought both hands to rest lightly at the Inquisitor’s waist, his gaze lowering to stare absently at the man’s shoulder.

“Dorian,” the Inquisitor gently put one of his hands on Dorian’s neck, fingers brushing the short hairs on his nape, “The offer to _sleep_ here tonight still stands.” He opened his mouth to say more, but thought better of it and closed it into a smile. He took a step back and led the way up the stairs.

“I need to change,” the man said, disappearing in one of the alcoves by the bed. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” Dorian replied as he removed his clothes. He snuck into the bed, burrowing beneath the heavy covers.

The Inquisitor soon came out of the alcove and walked around the room, taking care of the candles and the dying fire. The room grew dark, with only the faint embers and the brightness of the stars to light it. He walked to the bed and got under the covers. Seeking his warmth, Dorian nestled closer. 

“Is this fine?” the Inquisitor whispered as he put an arm over Dorian’s body.

“Mh,” Dorian nodded.

They were silent for a while, then Dorian noticed the other man’s steady breathing and realized the Inquisitor was asleep. He surrendered to slumber shortly after.

**Author's Note:**

> Full prompt was :  
> "I was super sad that I couldn't cajole Giselle into repeating whatever salacious rumors were spreading about Dorian and me.
> 
> Your mission: tell us what those rumors were! The crazier, spicier, and more physically improbable, the better!"
> 
> I don't feel like I managed to make it crazy and spicy and I'm sorry about that... The story sorta took a life of its own and ended up as it is now.


End file.
